


Lovers

by alt_olive



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, F/M, Kabby, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 17:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alt_olive/pseuds/alt_olive
Summary: A Kabby Coffee Shop AU told in three parts; Skinny Love, Stubborn Love, and Steady Love.We know how this trope goes. Maybe they fall in love easy this time. Maybe they don't.





	Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the song 'Lovers' from Anna of the North.

SKINNY LOVE  
(n.) when two people love each other,  
but are too shy to admit it,  
yet they show it anyway

\--

Abby remembered the first time she noticed him in her cafe. She’d just finished helping Jackson and Niylah with the ten o’clock rush of university students. Honestly, it was better if she didn’t know exactly how many Black Eyes had been ordered. Finals week was their busiest time, but she always felt some remorse for the kids who came in with sheer panic on their face.

He had thrown his coat and scarf on the next chair over. There were no electrical plugs in that back corner of the cafe. Instead, there were shelves of books color coded a few feet away from him. The students loved to take pictures in front of the donated novels, but never actually grabbed one to read.

Anyway, he had been sitting in that corner table with no personal computer or headphones. An anomaly to the growing technology age. All she saw was a stack of binded papers, two pens (one black, one red), and an empty mug.

Abby didn’t recognize each person that walked into her cafe. But she knew he had never been there before. She’d remember that heap of jet black hair, tan skin, and borderline unruly beard.

“I hate finals week,” Jackson muttered under his breath, “I hate keeping this place open an extra hour.”

Niylah smacked him with one of the small towels they used to clean the espresso machine, “Shut it. Sales go up, which means our checks go up. Because you know …”

“College kids don’t tip,” Jackson sighed.

“College kids don’t tip,” Niylah affirmed with a sharp nod, “That’s why we love Abby.”

Jackson rolled the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows and repeated, “That’s why we love Abby.”

Abby chuckled, grabbing the pen from the counter to pull her hair into a bun. In one fluid motion she stuck the pen through her honey locks, and kept it in place. “Which one of you will still love me after throwing away the garbage from the bins? It’s fifteen ‘til close.”

“I did it last night,” Niylah rose her hands up in defense.

“Because I wiped down all the tables,” Jackson argued.

“Then I’ll wipe down the tables tonight,” Niylah rolled her eyes.

“It’s as though you two work here,” Abby’s eyes widened in sarcasm. Then she put her arms around both their shoulders, and pushed them in the general direction of their chores, “C’mon, the faster you’re done the faster we can close up.”

“Can we stare at customers until they leave?” Niylah asked quietly.

“I told you, just sweep around them and start putting chairs up. They’ll get the hint and leave on their own,” Jackson replied under his breath.

“I’m not hearing this,” Abby left them to their own devices and returned to her place behind the counter just in case there were any last minute walkins.

As she began bagging the leftover baked goods, Abby tried not to look at the man through the glass casing. He was writing an awful lot of notes on the thick stack of paper in his hand. _Maybe he’s a professor_ , Abby thought.

True to form, seven minutes before close a frantic student ran in. Jackson took their order and Niylah poured the last cup of coffee for the night. After that the two began pulling up the chairs in a rather rowdy fashion.

Abby took note of the man lost in his own world, oblivious to her baristas tactics. His back was to them, immersed in whatever he was reading. Without much of a thought she walked over to his table. Even as she placed her hands gently on the edge of the strong oak wood, quite obviously making her presence known, he did not look up at her.

Instead, he scribbled another scrappy note. When she opened her mouth to verbally grab his attention, he spoke up, “Don’t worry, I see you.”

Abby tried not to get irritated when he still didn’t lift his chin, even an inch, to look at her. So she reached over for the empty mug, “Can I take this from you?”

“Yes,” he murmured, “unless you plan on filling it with more coffee. Though you do close in two minutes, and I’m afraid I can’t gulp down a mug of scorching coffee in two minutes.”

Abby clenched her fingers around the cool ceramic, “A ‘yes’ was fine, thanks.”

His lips lifted into a small smirk, and she almost forgave him, but a strong laugh followed. Had her remark really been that hilarious? Then she watched as he noted a part of the document he was reading with black ink: _funny but mean_. Abby exhaled a large breath and turned on her heels.

“I like your coffee shop,” he spoke up behind her, “it stays quiet. Seldom do I find coffee shops that haven’t become synonymous with bars.”

Abby felt butterflies shoot through her stomach at his deep soft voice. She could turn and meet the face of the man with the nice voice. But it felt like that’s what he wanted. So, Abby stayed as she was, his stare boring into her back.

“Well, seldom do I meet people who avoid looking at a person's face so diligently.”

She walked away from him then, knowing with each step his eyes were on her. The bells of the front door jingled at eleven o’clock sharp. At least he had left the cafe on time.

\---

What Abby didn’t know was that Marcus had noticed her first that night.

He had sat down with his full mug before he heard small scraping against the smooth cement floor. He’d turned his head to find the petite woman, on her tiptoes atop a small wooden crate box, reaching for the hazelnut syrup. She had huffed, lifting a foot in hopes that it made her taller. But all it did was move the unstable box under her feet.

Marcus had been seconds from helping her himself. Because god forbid she slip off, injure herself, and he be labeled a witness. But one of her baristas, a tall young man, easily grabbed the bottle for her. Marcus overheard their playful banter, and when she hopped off the small box he quickly faced his manuscript.

He didn’t have to see her face to know she was beautiful.

\---

The next day he walked in a quarter after five o’clock. In his hand was the same manuscript from last night, and in his coat pocket were the same two pens. Marcus wasn’t keen on carrying multiple supplies, nor did he ever need anything else.

That was until he ordered one extra hot almond milk vanilla latte, and watched as it slipped from Jacksons’ hold and splattered across his manuscript. Within seconds, the thick stack of paper was drenched with the light brown liquid.

“I am so sorry!” Jackson immediately reached for the napkins behind him.

Marcus held in every curse word and tightened his free hand into a fist.

“Was this important?” Jackson asked, still hopelessly drying the paper with more paper. Completely useless.

“Just the next New York Times Best Seller,” Marcus grit through his teeth, harshly pulling the manuscript from Jacksons hands. “It’s also not like my author refuses to write on a computer, forcing me to carry around the only version of his tell all on Arkadias’ elite. But _fuck me_ right?!”

“You’re kidding,” Niylah peered over Jackson’s shoulder intrigued by the premise of the novel, trying to get a glimpse of the title.

Then Marcus heard a voice come from the back room, “He’s not kidding and that’s why you should make copies.”

Abby didn’t turn to face Marcus. Instead, she continued stacking the bags of coffee beans in their rightful place. Jackson slowly backed away from the counter. Niylah mimicked him. They knew when their boss was gearing up to defend her staff.

“Make his next drink free,” Abby cooly instructed, jumping off the small stool. Her long skirt momentarily flowed in the air like a parachute before finding its normal place again. She had a rather baggy t-shirt on, knotted in the front.

Marcus tried to gather his emotions before speaking, but he failed miserably. “A free coffee for ruining something worth more than your entire cafe?”

Abby felt the mood of the room shift to an awkward silence. She let his blow land, and made her way over to the front of the counter so she could finally be face to face with him. Marcus was unprepared for the strong gaze that didn’t show an ounce of fear.

At all but five foot three, Abby Griffin very much gave the impression that she was six feet tall. Her long hair fell over one shoulder, curling loosely at the ends. Her sharp cheekbones accented the pout of her lips as she got ready to tell him something.

“Jackson apologized, it was a human mistake Mr?” she rose her eyebrow, as her fingers clenched into fists on the wooden counter.

“Kane,” Marcus murmured, unwilling to lose their battle of nauseating eye contact.

“Kane,” Abby began with a small smirk, “unfortunately I cannot replace the once in a lifetime novel your author decided to create on a typewriter. And we as an establishment are deeply sorry for that. So, I’ll tell you what. For two weeks, one drink a day is on me. Deal?”

Abby hated to admit that Kane had kind eyes. Under that cold stare he was giving her, his deep brown irises reflected every warm light that hung just above the counter space. Abby noticed the way his eyebrows narrowed at her offer, and how he chewed the inside of his cheek before responding.

“On the account that I could, and given any other circumstance _would_ sue for property damage,” Marcus leaned in closer, only a foot from Abby’s nose, “I will take your deal, under one condition.”

Abby let her elbows grace the hardwood, closing the short amount of space between them. She felt like she’d been verbally sparring with this man her whole life. “First of all, you’d lose.”

His lips pull back into a devilish grin, “I never lose.”

Abby looks down his nose, watching his mouth for a second before lifting her eyes back up to him, “What’s your condition Kane?”

Marcus lays his palms face down, his fingertips only millimeters from her elbows, “ _You_ make my coffee.”

Abby watched as he ran a hand down his beard, pushing away from the magnets that kept pulling them closer together. Marcus took one step back before his final words left him, “You’d do well not to spill it.”

With that closing statement, he clutched the manuscript to his side and began to make his way out of the cafe. Just as his hand hit the cool metal of the exit door Abby spoke up, “Better hope I’m around then.”

Marcus turned, pushing the door open with his back, “Me and _hope_ aren’t exactly friends.”

Then, he was gone.

\---

Marcus doesn’t show his face for three days. Abby wants to hurl herself into a fire for even letting him infiltrate her thoughts as often as he was. She didn’t even know the guy, and yet with every jingle of the door she not so subtly looked to see if it was him. His arrogance should have deterred her, but Abby instead found herself wanting to argue with him. He kept up, and so little people ever did.

\---

“It’s a Saturday,” Abby pushed both her young baristas out the door, “no students are on this street. They’re all at bars getting drunk. So _go_ ,” she shoved them a little, “I can handle it.”

“Close up early and join us then,” Niylah told her, wrapping her scarf around her neck, “you need a beer or two also.”

Abby laughed gently, “Have one for me.”

“You’re impossible Abby,” Jackson shook his head, leading the way out into the night. Niylah brushed Abby’s shoulder as a goodnight and followed.

The cafe settled into a warm silence. Not a single human other than herself. Abby straightened a few chairs and the long couch on her way behind the counter. She knew exactly what sounded delightful and began making herself the seasons special; a coconut mocha with a pump of caramel. Just as she got done pouring the almond milk, the jingle from the front door rang through the shop.

“Perfect timing,” a deep voice said under a shiver. It was supposed to drop a substantial amount of degrees tonight. But the weatherman had said no snow, so what fun was that?

Abby clutched the metal tin that held the milk in her hands. She refused to spill anything on his account. Even if he did startle her.

“You’ve omitted three drinks,” Abby chided him, finally lifting her face. He wore a forest green sweater and dark denim pants, his hair was a little messy after pulling off his beanie.

“You tracking me?” He joked, approaching Abby as she set down her mug by the register.

Abby shook her head from side to side, “In your dreams.”

Marcus set down two copies of his crisp new manuscript by her mug, “Whatever that is, it smells delightful and I would like the same, please.”

“He says please,” Abby raised her eyebrow, “not a total caveman.”

“Only under duress,” he muttered, this time half joking.

“Do you ever let anyone have the last word?” Abby rolled her eyes, pushing her mug to him.

“No,” Marcus answered indefinitely, “what are you doing?”

“Take mine, you wanted the same right?”

“Well that’s rude,” he declined pushing it back to her.

“And suddenly you care about being rude?” Abby cackled.

“Your barista ruined my manuscript.”

“And yet here you are.”

“It took three days.”

“What did?”

“Getting someone to transcribe the coffee soaked parts and then make four copies.”

“So you did listen to me.”

Marcus watched as her eyes lit up, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, waiting to be released at the first sign of his defeat.

“Don’t get used to it,” Marcus remarked, and just as he had called it, she smiled.

He gently, and precisely, set his materials down on the table the same way he had done the first night. Except for this time he leaned over and set down the extra copy in the seat before him. _Was he expecting someone?_ Abby thought, _Maybe the author_.

Marcus stripped his coat off and hung it beside him, “Are you going to stare at me while I work all night, or are you going to come over here and help?”

Abby choked on air, “Help?”

Marcus took a seat, opening up the manuscript to its first page, “Yes, you do know how to read don’t you?”

“I’m not an editor,” Abby told him, not even bothering to answer his ridiculous question.

“Precisely,” he answered her, lifting the warm mug up to his lips. Abby mentally high-fived herself when a look of utter bliss crosses his face. _She was good._ “I’d make yourself one of these before you start though.”

And Abby does, taking her time as she assesses whether or not he was a serial murderer. She cautiously approached him and set her mug down. When she was finally settled across from him, Marcus slid one of his pens over to her. Before Abby grabbed it, she pulled her hair over the left side of her face and french braided it.

“We still close in an hour and a half, no exceptions,” Abby snipped, “and you see that tip jar over there. _This_ ,” she points down at the manuscript, “equates to something in _that_.”

Marcus chuckled, “Get reading Miss?”

“Griffin,” she murmured, already lifting the pen up to her lips to bite the clip as she reads, “First name’s Abby though. I’d rather you not call me Griffin.”

She knew his eyes hadn’t left her face as she attempted to read the first sentence of the novel for the tenth time. Marcus softened, allowing for a small smile to grace his thin lips. He didn’t repeat her name, afraid of the power it could have leaving his tongue.

They passed the time in silence. When Marcus looked up, she was looking down, and vice versa. No one else walked in that night, and even if they had, Abby wouldn’t have noticed. Whether it was the company or the book she was already seven chapters deep in, Abby would never know.

“Okay,” Abby sighed, “I’m stopping here. You can stay until I’m done closing up, but it should only take me ten to fifteen minutes.”

Marcus closed his manuscript, “I’ll help you.”

Abby shook her head, declining his offer, “You don’t have to.”

“You helped me with my work,” he shrugged, “it’s only fair.”

“You don’t even know if my notes are any good,” Abby told him, her fingertips gracing the smooth paper on the table.

“Well they can’t be bad,” he rubbed his sweaty palms against his pants and avoided eye contact, “you talk too smart.”

Abby felt a blush creep up her neck. Quickly, she cleared her throat, “The chairs.”

“The chairs?” he asked curiously.

“They need to be put up so I can sweep the floor,” she explained, grabbing her stuff from the table and heading over to the counter.

“Alright,” Marcus whispered, picking up his own things and following her to place his stuff down exactly where hers was.

Abby worked behind the counter and listened as he quietly lifted each wooden chair up on the tables.

“How long have you lived in Arkadia?” he asked gently.

“Nine years,” she peeked over the baked goods casing and noticed he’d rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, “How about you?”

“I’m visiting actually.”

Abby had no response. She gets out of towners more often than not, so his answer was not unusual. But she couldn’t pinpoint why she felt a little disappointed that soon enough he would be gone.

“My author lives here,” Marcus continued, filling her silence, “company sent me out to work on the book with him.”

Abby nodded, walking over to grab the broom as he finished putting all the chairs then stood by the register.

“So when do you go back to … ?” she let her question fall open-ended, already done sweeping a fourth of the small cafe.

“Polis,” he crossed his arms in front of him. _Opposite coast_ , Abby tried not to let her disappointed expression slip. “And … I suppose whenever the book is done.”

Abby swept the small dust particles into the pan, “Well you’ll enjoy your stay a while then. Your author … needs work. They’re good, but they think they’re Gods gift to the world. And that’s not very appealing to us common folk.”

Marcus chuckled, “My thoughts precisely.”

Abby walked over to a trash bin, dumping the contents, “I liked it,” she shyly stated.

“The book?”

“No-”

“Is it that bad?”

“ _No_ ,” she laughed putting the broom and dustpan away, “I mean I liked the feeling of reading, processing, and giving feedback. Reminded me of school.”

Marcus nodded, his eyes following her while she hid in the back room as she disclosed this small enjoyment they’ve shared tonight.

“Before you ask,” she spoke up, as she aimlessly moved inventory around, “yes I did go to university. Yes I did finish. And I’ll raise you one more, I even went to medical school.”

Marcus quickly addressed her, “You can’t say that while hiding in your supply closet, please come out here and tell me more.”

He waited a few long seconds before Abby emerged, pulling her hair out from its braid, “There’s really nothing to tell. I went to medical school. Then life happened.”

“And now you own a coffee shop?”

“And now I own a coffee shop.”

“A pretty spectacular one I might add.”

“Kane-”

“Run very efficiently,” he continued, “and it’s Marcus.”

“What?”

“My name is Marcus.”

“Oh,” Abby paused, her eyes meeting his, “good to know.”

“But whenever you are ridiculously and utterly upset with me, you can call me Kane,” he grinned at her.

“I like Marcus too much to call you anything else now. So even when I am ridiculously and utterly upset at you, I will call you Marcus.”

His breath stopped as her finger ran down her arms, a reminder that the cold air was creeping inside.

“I like Abby too,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, “but when I am ridiculously and utterly upset at you, I would like to call you Abigail. Just has more punch when you’re trying to make a point you know?”

“I’m well aware of the power of full names.”

“Well then,” he paused to drop something in the tip jar, “in case you were curious.”

Abby watched as he picked up his copy of the novel and made his way to the door. “Goodnight Abby.”

The moment he left the cafe, she immediately peered into the tip jar. Her fingers were steady as they pulled out a business card. Slowly she lifted it to her eyes.

 _Marcus Elijah Kane_  
_Senior Editor_  
_Polis Publishing House_

And then her eyes fell over his number in black embossed letters. He was good.

\---

The next day Marcus swings by later than usual. Abby approached him with her notes on the first ten chapters, as she had read three more while in bed last night. Jackson tried his best not to stare as Abby pulled out the seat in front of Marcus and began talking to him like they had been friends in a previous life.

“She told me he came in when we left last night,” Niylah told Jackson while she clawed a baked good from their display for a customer.

“I knew we should have tried harder to get her to go out with us,” Jackson shook his fallen head, feeling a bit disappointed in himself.

“She didn’t seem annoyed about it,” Niylah shrugged her shoulders, “let it be. Maybe Abby needs this.”

“Oh don’t start,” Jackson rolled his eyes, pouring a cup of black coffee for a regular. As he handed off the scolding cup he said, “This guy isn’t some hero in disguise. Abby isn’t in need of saving, she’s been fine.”

Niylah sighed, “Of course she’s been fine you idiot, that’s not some grand realization. But when’s the last time-”

“I’m not hearing this,” Jackson shook his head, “that guy is bad news. Are we forgetting how he verbally attacked me?”

“You spilled blistering coffee on him and his work Jackson. I think he was allowed a little rage.”

Jackson stared at Niylah and Niylah stared at Jackson. Neither wanting to give in to their small argument.

“Excuse me, sorry, but I’m in a rush,” a customers small voice interrupted them.

Jackson conceded when he saw Abby’s attention lift from her conversation to the halted line, growing in length.

“I should go help,” Abby murmured and pushed the open manuscript towards Marcus, “here. It was pretty late when I read chapter nine, but I noted some of the paragraphs could be switched to make more sense. Take a look, I’ll be right back.”

Marcus nodded once, pushing his own copy aside and grabbing her own in his hands. He was probably insane to think in some form or fashion her perfume had coated it. _Had she been reading while getting dressed earlier today?_ Marcus thought. He tried hard to read her notes, but simply gazed over her scribbles. _Definitely doctoral handwriting._

Then he flipped the page and found something out of the ordinary, a small silver star in the middle of the last paragraphs. The sticker shined as he moved the manuscript around in his hands. _Did this mean she loved this paragraph enough to put a sticker on it?_

Just as his question flew through his mind, she was back in front of him, “So do you agree?” Abby asked, placing a piece of chocolate cake between the both of them, followed by two spoons on either side.

Marcus looked at the cake, back at her innocent eyes, and tried to process it all.

“Okay three things,” he let the manuscript fall from his fingers, “One, your handwriting is garbage, cute garbage, but garbage. Two, do I get a sticker? Three, why did you bring cake and do I have to pay you for it?”

Abby laughed differently than he had heard before, a higher pitch in the back of her throat. Marcus wanted to rewind time just so he could hear it for the first time again.

“Technically that was four things,” she lifted her spoon and dug it into the soft slice of cake, “and please tell me you like cake. Please don’t be that person who denies cake.”

“I love cake,” Marcus smirked and grabbed his spoon. He lifted his scoop up to his lips and was happily surprised as the treat melted against his tongue. As Abby wanted, he forgot about the rest of his questions.

\--

A week went by and they enjoyed every few hours they got to spend in each others company. When Abby closed on Friday, instead of walking in the opposite direction, he joined her down the path she took home.

“What are you doing?” Abby raised her eyebrow quizzically and stopped them in front of one of the restaurants on the street. The twinkling lights from the outdoor seating invited them to journey inside.

“I’m looking for a place to eat,” Marcus shrugged, “I’ve stopped by the market, sandwich shop, and two fusion kitchens down my way. So I thought I’d give this way a go.”

Abby buttoned her coat, “You do know that Arkadia is the largest city in our country right? You’re not binded to what’s on your block. That’s the beauty of this place.”

“I think it being the largest city in our country is _precisely_ why I have kept to a mile radius of my hotel.”

“What, are you afraid of regular people on the subway?” she teased, “Your coast is so pretentious.”

“I think we share the same amount of pretentious population on either coast,” he laughed.

“Fine I’ll give you that,” she agreed just as a snooty looking group of people walked out of the restaurant.

They stood without movement. The never ending sound of something going on surrounding them. Marcus took one big step closer to her and let his forehead fall as he confessed, “I’ve never been on the subway.”

Abby’s eyes widened, “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way,” he chuckled, looking as embarrassed as he felt. “This place … it’s overwhelming. I would have never come if it weren’t for this novel.”

A hard wind picked up, curling around the corner, and pushing them together. Abby knew what he was feeling, it was the same way she felt when she first moved there. _But then I met_ … she shook her head not letting the thought finish.

“Well I’m not about to glorify the subway,” she told him honestly, “it’s much better in the winter than the summer I’ll tell you that. _But_ ,” the ends of her mouth lifted into something Marcus could only describe as mischievous, “I am going to make this worth it for you.”

\--

They walked ten blocks and Marcus felt like dying. _How was she so speedy?_ He huffed as they crossed yet another light.

“Where are we going?” he whined, “Why couldn’t we just cab there?”

“Because it’s faster to walk,” she answered him truthfully, “plus we’re here.”

Marcus looked around aggravated, “It’s the same. Building on building. We’ve passed by at least six food stands, I give up, we can just buy a cholesterol-filled delight and go our separate ways. My feet hurt, you’re killing me woman.”

“Building on building?” she scoffed, “I could murder you. I should leave you on the corner of this street right now.”

“Please don’t,” he shook his head, “ _I will die_.”

“Then _pay attention_ ,” Abby scolded him, “it’s the best gift you can give yourself while in Arkadia.”

Marcus closed his eyes and inhaled the unique smell of the city. With a large exhale he opened his eyes, “There.”

“Not what I meant,” Abby shook her head, “that’s gross. I don’t even do that. Do you like the smell of gasoline, cigarettes, and pollution?”

“You’re impossible,” he quipped, and then she did something Marcus would never have expected. Abby grabbed his cold hand in hers and pulled him in through the grand building they had been standing in front of.

\--

They descended down one of the largest escalators he had been on in his life. The place looked familiar, and only when he saw the curved ceiling did it click.

“Why’ve you brought me to Eden Central Station?” he asked softly, but his hand tightened around hers.

“Because this is where you’re going to buy your first metrocard,” Abby looked back at him, her eyes twinkling. However, Marcus did not return the same look of excitement, not even close. So she stopped them in the middle of the hustle and bustle, “Marcus what’s wrong? You’ve gone pale.”

Marcus felt nerves kick in every part of his body, his blood pressure rising as he tried to get a handle on himself, “I’m fine I just need a second.” Flashes of the police, his crying teacher, and his mothers distraught voice appeared before him. Then, he felt her hands on either side of his face. They were tender and smelled like vanilla and espresso beans. He stayed like that a while longer than intended, wishing to ingrain that fragrance, her fragrance, for safe keeping.

“Feel better?” she asked him, “Your color is back.”

Marcus opened his eyes, the matching pink on her nose and cheeks tempted him to ask if this was a dream. Instead, he diverged, “You would’ve been a great pediatrician.”

Abby let her hands fall down his chest, taken aback by his remark, “What?” she croaked.

“Your voice … it’s low and warm … it’s comforting,” he shook his head nervously, “I don’t know what I’m saying. Sorry.”

“No it’s fine,” Abby wiggled her toes, shifting from leg to leg, “thank you.”

They both stuck their hands inside the pockets of their coats.

“So that metrocard?” he asked, “Let’s replace a memory Abby.”

She took notice of his particular choice of words, but didn’t ask him to clarify.

\--

Marcus heard the train before he saw it. When he turned his head in its direction, a rush of wind graced his face as it passed a few feet from them.

“That’s fast,” he gulped, as it came to a halt in front of them.

“That’s the point,” Abby remarked, grabbing a hold of his forearm and dragging him inside, “stand by me.”

He didn’t argue, as she found them a spot in the middle, a single silver pole drilled into the ceiling and floor. People populated the space around them, and Marcus found himself looming over Abby. If it bothered her, she didn’t show it. Then the train moved and he lost his balance, stumbling a bit forward, but catching his weight before he crushed her too much.

“Whoa,” he grabbed a hold of her waist, steadying them, “sorry I wasn’t ready.”

Abby laughed, “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got five more stops to get it right.”

“Five?!”

“You do know how to count right?” she teased him the same way he had sassed her their second night meeting.

“Funny,” he huffed, letting one hand lay at her side, and the other deathly grip the silver pole, “you’re funny.”

“It should empty out in two stops, then we can find a seat if you’d like,” she turned to face him fully, completely stable as the train swayed gently side to side.

Afraid of losing her proximity, Marcus cleared his throat, “I can stand.”

\--

In five stops, they stepped off the train, and walked up the cement steps.

“Ah, look at that,” Marcus rolled his eyes, “more buildings.”

She didn’t bother replying to him. So in the silence, he paid attention.

Marcus smelled the roses from a flower stand, and noticed the bright colors arranged so tactfully he almost stopped Abby to buy a bouquet. He looked inside a bookshop, jealous of the humans surrounded by warmth, and holiday decorations. Marcus saw a group of young children holding hands, en route to someplace. He saw every kind of person, and finally, _finally_ , he saw a small park. The patch of green in the middle of the concrete world brought him joy.

Before he knew it, Abby had placed them in some sort of line. Marcus lifted his eyes to the red and green neon sign, _Ark Pizza_. It was a hole in the wall. A hole in the wall with a line out the door.

He looked at Abby and caught her finishing a text before sliding the phone in her bag.

“Sorry if you had plans tonight,” Marcus murmured, “you didn’t have to do this.”

Abby fixed the grey beanie on her head, “Oh, I didn’t have plans don’t worry. Also, this is the best pizza. Line used to be shorter years ago, but why should we hide the good stuff?”

“As long as they have pepperoni,” Marcus grinned like an excited child.

Abby paused, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, then she answered, “I can appreciate your simplicity,”

Marcus laughed, “You’re calling me basic.”

“I am,” she giggled nodding, “yes.”

After they both got two slices of their chosen pizza, they found a spot on a park bench. The trees were glowing with Christmas lights and a nearby lamppost flickered on and off.

“Okay so you fold it in half,” Abby lifted a slice of pizza showing him, “and then take a big bite.” She proceeded to dig into her Margherita pizza. Marcus watched as some grease slid into the palm of her hand, and before it could venture down to her elbow, she wiped it off with a rough brown napkin.

“Yeah, no,” he lifted the pizza, no parts folded, and took a bite from its pointed end. Abby watched as he hungrily swallowed his food. Then he groaned, “for fucks sake that’s good,” and took another bite. She mentally patted herself on the back.

They spent the next fifteen minutes enjoying their food in mutual silence, and discarding the trash in a bin next to them.

“I owe you,” he turned to her, as they sat shoulder to shoulder on the small bench.

“Don’t worry about it,” Abby waved her hand in front of her face.

“I’ll start paying for my coffee,” Marcus bartered with her.

“Marcus you’re the sole reason Jackson and Niylah have more than a few dollars in the tip jar right now.”

“Hey those tips are specifically for you,” he rose his eyebrow, and Abby gently smacked his leg. “I’ll write your name on the dollar bills next time.”

“Please don’t,” she laughed.

“Too late,” he chuckled, “the idea’s already stuck in my head.”

Abby let his comment roll off his tongue without another warning. The cold air had chilled their breaths into small clouds as they exhaled through their mouths. She pulled her coat tighter around her small form, and before she knew it, he was taking off his scarf and wrapping it around her neck loosely.

Marcus tried not to stall when she fixed her hair as he let his scarf drape around her shoulders. It was cold but silky against his hands, and the waft of her scent met his nose once more. He thought he’d never smell espresso beans and not think of her ever again.

On the other hand, Marcus’s scent was sharp. With every inhale, the peppermint and lavender opened her airways. His scent shocked you and then soothed you only a second later. Abby tried not laugh at how well it fit his personality. She had truly despised him upon their first meeting. But as they sit there together, she desired to show him everything before he left. She wanted to see his face as they walked across the Unity Bridge and through the halls of every museum and on the rooftop of her favorite bar.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Marcus gently grabbed her attention. His fingers landed over her hand and burned her skin in the most lovely way.

“I was thinking about all the places you should see before you go,” Abby answered him, never one to shy away from her real thoughts, “I could give you a list … so you don’t feel obliged to go with me.”

Marcus lifted her left hand, and held it between both of his, “I don’t feel obliged to go with you anywhere. I _want_ to go with you … Abby I would be eating the same cold roast beef sandwich tonight if it weren’t for you. ”

Abby threw her head back, “A cold roast beef sandwich? That’s just sad Marcus. That’s … _my god_.” She couldn’t help as her shoulders shook with laughter. “We have better food at the cafe!”

“I can’t live on baked goods Abby,” he smiled down at her, “I could live on your coffee though.”

Marcus felt her other hand join its pair on his lap, and she moved closer to him. He told himself for the warmth. It was becoming a bit too cold.

“But yes,” she whispered, “we can do all the things together.”

“Good,” he murmured back, his chin resting on the top of her head as she gave up and leaned further into him, “cause no one else is making me get back on that unsafe underground contraption. We’re cabbing back to …”

His voice fell off, unsure of where they would end up that night. His hotel was in god knows what direction. Near her cafe, yes, but she wouldn’t want to go back there. She’d want to go home. _Where was home?_ He couldn’t help but think.

\--

When the cab pulled up to a four story brownstone, on the wealthier side of Arkadia, Marcus was baffled. To say the least.

“For the lady,” the cab driver told them, and Marcus pulled out his wallet.

“Marcus stop,” she tried to shove the money down, but he’d already slipped the bills into the drivers hand.

“Let me walk you up,” he told her, rounding the cab just as she stepped out, “be right back,” Marcus ducked his head into the car.

“Yeah, yeah,” the cab driver waved him off.

Abby was already a few steps ahead of him, reaching for the keys in her bag. At the final step, she turned just in time for Marcus to approach her.

“I’m not going to do what you think I’m going to do,” he told her, as they stood face to face.

“And what’s that?” she smirked.

“Ask how the hell this is your house,” Marcus gestured towards the large dark red front door.

“Good,” Abby reached up to tap his nose, “cause I wouldn’t tell you tonight anyway.”

“That’s fair,” Marcus shrugged, “but I am going to do the other thing you think I’m going to do.”

Abby can’t find the words to chastise him. Because she wants him to. She wants him to so badly, and she hasn’t wanted anyone to do that for a long time.

“Your cab is waiting,” she whispered.

“Let it,” he replied, moving forward to hold her face in both his hands.

Marcus felt her cold lips melt against his. The side of their noses touched, as they formed a smooth rhythm. Abby let her arms inside his coat, enveloping herself in his warmth. Together they smelled like the spices of fall and she didn’t know how she felt about that. His fingers laced in her hair, massaging the back of her head as her own fingers pulled at his belt loops.

They didn’t notice when the cab drove off into the night.

\--

Abby opened her eyes to the familiarity of her own bedroom. Something was different about this morning. When she stretched, feeling the soreness in her legs, she remembered. Quickly she turned to find a man asleep on his belly beside her. Abby’s eyes widened, as she lifted the comforter up to her mid-face to cover her naked body.

All the images of last night danced in her mind. Good images, very good images. None of them blurred or forgotten. Her eyes raked over his bare arms and the strong muscles of his back.

“Morning beautiful,” he mumbled, his eyes still closed, “like what you see?”

Abby blushed furiously at being caught staring.

“I could ask the same,” she countered.

“Oh I do,” he affirmed, “no doubt about it.” Marcus couldn’t help as his stomach growled. “I think we skipped breakfast.”

Abby felt her stomach drop, “Oh my god, what time is it?!” She flipped over to face her alarm clock, reading it at eleven thirty in the morning. “ _Shit_ ,” she hissed as she threw the blankets off of her.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus sat up worried, “Abby please tell me this is your house?”

“This is my house Marcus,” she rolled her eyes, proving her point by opening a dresser and pulling out clean underwear and a bra. Marcus gave up on trying to look away from her nude body.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I’m late,” she waltzed to the double doors in the room and pushed them open, unveiling a tidy bathroom, and through there a walk-in closet. From inside the depths of her closet, he heard her shuffling about. She came out in dark skinny jeans, an oversized red sweater, and black ankle boots.

“Marcus don’t take this the wrong way but,” Abby began as she walked over to his naked form on the bed.

“You need me to go,” he answered her with one curt nod, pulling back the sheets just as she had done earlier. Abby tried her best to give him his privacy, but she couldn’t help sneak a few glances as he dressed. Surely he had done the same when she got out of bed.

“I don’t normally,” Abby tried to find the right words to say, “unless that’s something …”

“Abby, it’s fine, I understand,” Marcus replied without indignation, “you don’t have to explain to me. I’m sorry I made you late to wherever …”

Her hands fidgeted against her abdomen, “But is this … to you … is this a one night-”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you later tonight? Cafe?” Marcus asked as he pulled his coat over his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Abby nodded.

He leaned down to give her a small kiss, and then made his way to the first floor. When she heard the front door close Abby cursed, “ _Fuck_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Any views, comments, and kudos are always greatly appreciated. I'm really liking this prompt so expect more soon.


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